


The Pied Pipper

by 1_The_Purple_Donkey_1



Category: Original Work
Genre: Complete, I don't know, Kidnapping, Murder, Tourture, Violence, but maybe it's not complete, i own this, not that graphic, origional work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_The_Purple_Donkey_1/pseuds/1_The_Purple_Donkey_1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been years since HE came, but once more we are hearing his music in our valley. Why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pied Pipper

The sweet melody drifted through the hills, each note like a kiss from a loved one. The music was dulcet and captivating. Just listening to it made your blood pressure drop, your pulse slow and your breaths deeper, steadier. You'd find yourself drifting away. All conscious thought would be lost when listening to this music. You would loose yourself. It made me shudder, remembering the last time I heard that tune. It had been more than two decades since I last heard it, and I never thought I would ever hear it again. I still have nightmares about the last time I heard it. It was when the Pied Piper came calling for his payment- and I have never been the same again.

I was only seven years old when the Piper came calling to our village for the first time. Our village was suffering from a severe rat infestation, and he promised that he could get rid of every last rat. The mayor accepted his services on behalf of the town. The Piper picked up his pipe, played a little tune and rats poured out of every nook and cranny. They pooled at his feet, standing like soldiers at attention. Two minuets latter, and he was walking down main road, the rats all following him. He lead them out of the village, and to a river three miles out. The rats all jumped in and drowned.

But there was one hitch- his payment. After the rats were all dead and gone, he strode back into the village, straight up to the mayor and said "two thousand dollars". Two hundred dollars was a years salary- for a rich man. Two thousand was outrageous! The combined income of the village wasn't even close to that. We were having a rough year, drought killed the crops and rats ate all of our stores. We didn't have the money. The mayor told the Piper as much, and the Piper raised an eyebrow and said "Two thousand dollars. A service was rendered and I demand pay". Once more the mayor told him "we just don't have that". The Piper huffed, looked around and called out "Mark my words, I will receive my pay". He then marched out of the village.

Two nights latter, I awoke to the sweetest sound I had ever heard. It was like angels were singing in my ear. I was helpless against it, I just had to do what the music told me. I crawled out of my bed and walked right out the front door. Outside, all the children, from the Johnsons six hour old babe, to my sixteen year old cousin Lanna, were standing. The older children held the little ones, those unable to walk yet, in their arms. Siblings clumped together, huddling for warmth. All of us were in our night clothes and it was the dead of the night-the temperature must have been near freezing. The Piper was standing at the head of the mass of children, playing his pipe like a man possessed. We were all rendered helpless to his music. His commands were our orders, and we obeyed. He lead us out of the village and had us walking for what seemed like hours- probably was as the sun was up when we finally got there. There was a little barn in a meadow. He locked us all up in it and left.

I have no clue how long we were in there. It was pitch black- no way to tell the passing of time. Every so often he would unlock the door, walk in and grab one of us. Sometimes, the kid would come back crying, clutching a bloody stump of a hand or some other body part. Other times, the kid would never come back.

We were in that barn for a week and a half. On day one there were a hundred and seventy two kids. On day ten there were only a hundred and fourteen untouched. Twenty five of the kids were dead- their heads sent to the village with notes saying "Pay up". Twenty kids lost a hand, eight lost a leg or foot, two lost ears and three lost eyes. Somehow our families managed to raise the money, and we were released. The barn doors were thrown open and we were left to crawl our way home.

Those of us who survived, we vowed to never call the Piper ever again. We were all too scared by his visit- children and adults alike. So then, why, after twenty three years, was I hearing his tune once more? Who had dared to call him and why? We have no plagues of mice, our crops are thriving, the livestock are healthy, water's running fine- no draughts. Everybody's happy and healthy. So why am I hearing his tune once more?

**Author's Note:**

> this is an origional work by me. No stealing it, please.


End file.
